Panther Park white winter hymnal

As much as she loathed to admit it, Olive knew that she would need to amend her diet for the next nine weeks. Her body was busy splitting cells and replicating DNA and that required . Perhaps she would even start to voraciously crave meat, as she knew many pregnant women to do. There was no escaping that fate — but the entire burden could not be placed upon her husband, as dutiful and capable as he was. Without the support of a Teaghlaigh [for the time being], he would be hard pressed to catch enough prey for five of them. Plus, the more time he spent hunting alone was time spent away from her… and that thought was almost worse than the thought of killing.

But Olive had hunted and she had killed before. She was no good at it and her small size meant she was limited in the size of game she could take down. Still, the misted sylph elected to assist Dakarai in his task rather than stand by and watch. Her husband had large aspirations and sought the herd to large ungulates: she was sure he could use any help he could get, no matter how pathetic her attempt.

Olive allowed herself to be led by Dakarai and followed all of his cues, almost as if they were one mind split into two bodies. Her peridot gaze, alive with energy, bounced from Dakarai’s face [writ with the pains of strategy] to the herd who seemed so blissfully unaware of their impending doom. Olive swallowed to loosen the tightness and anticipation in her throat; though her mind protested, her stomach and legs and babies yearned for the hunt. Then, suddenly, Dakarai dashed off in a blur of black fur and snarls, creating noises she had never heard him make before. Olive had become so wrapped in her apprehension that her own assault was several second delay. The woman sprinted towards the thundering chaotic herd, several yards behind her husband. In the few seconds she had before she reached the scene, Olive carefully watched the scene’s every movement and tried to decided where she would be most needed.